I drag my lips along his blood-streaked cheek, slow enough to make him shudder.
“Do you want to beg for your mum now?” I whisper.
Jameson gasps, his breath hitching on a sob.
“F-f-fuck you, m-monster.”
Something deep and savage rumbles through me—a sound older than laughter and heavier than joy.
“You think I’m the monster? You were going to fuck her broken body, cut off her head, and leave her in the dirt like trash.”
My nails trail down his trembling chest, dragging thin lines through the blood slicking his skin.
“You thought you were going to be remembered for this, didn’t you?” I murmur, my voice thick with mockery. “You thought you were going to be important.”
I lean in, lips grazing his cheek.
“But after tonight, the only thing anyone will remember about you … is how you screamed for me.”
A grin splits my mouth, too sharp to be human.
My breath ghosts against his ear. “The difference between us? I don’t need to rape women to feel powerful.”
I take three slow steps back, watching him try and fail to move. He gasps through blood and spit, his breath wet and broken, terror blooming in his eyes.
Beautiful.
I crouch beside him, gripping his leg at the thigh, savoring the way he flinches beneath my touch.
“You’re not even going to fight? No last-ditch attempt to save your worthless life?” I taunt, tilting my head.
A pathetic whimper spills from his lips. “No, please, don’t …”
I grin, slow and sharp.
“Ah, there it is. I fucking love it when humans reach this stage. Tell me, what would you give me if I stopped?”
“I-I don’t know. Anything?” Jameson whimpers through shuddering breaths.
“That’s a pretty shitty offer.” I click my tongue, feigning disappointment.
My grip tightens, and his pulse flutters beneath my fingers like a butterfly pinned to paper.
“What I really want is to bathe in your blood and devour every inch of your body.”
A broken sob wracks through him. “No.”
I moan softly, drunk on his fear, his pleading, the way his breath stumbles through another patheticplease.
“Fuck yes. Now the tears.”
I tighten my grip and tear, wrenching his leg from its socket with a wet, glorious pop.
Jameson screams until his throat gives out.
My shadows snap around his head, forcing his gaze to stay on me.
“You deserve this and more,” I murmur, studying his trembling, fading form.
